


You won't be the one

by Chyrstis



Series: You'll be okay, I promise [7]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Gen, drunken radio calls are a bad idea...period
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-10 03:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20521454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chyrstis/pseuds/Chyrstis
Summary: “You were the one that called me. Let me remind you of that, yet again,”he replied, an edge creeping into his tone.“But this is the longest we’ve talked so far. I’d like to call that…progress.”“I don’t think we’re supposed to make progress here.”“Given my role, I’d have to disagree. Progress is precious. All too delicate and easily lost, much like trust. And I understand yours is not given easily, Deputy.”She took in a slow breath and let it out through her nose. “What do you want, John?”---A conversation in two parts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my wip file for a bit now (ever since late July/August, I want to say), but it's time to finally get it out there. Here's hoping part two won't take much longer to finish up!

It was strange being back here in the valley.

It wasn’t quite where she’d started, but close enough to it that Hana wondered just what she’d feel crossing the border. Moving from the Henbane, and Faith’s chosen territory, back to where she’d left this place before.

She’d been a mess. A furious mess in need of an outlet. It had come in the form of work from Tracey, after reconnecting with Earl and finding some sense of balance, but she’d nearly blown it coming in. Had come dangerously close to crashing her helicopter both flying it and landing it, because her nerves were frayed bringing it down. She'd felt it shake around her, and flashed back to that night, just for a second, but that was all it took.

Sleep hadn’t come easily that night either, thinking back to how she had floated in place. Been held down below, left only to look up.

Up at the lights. Up through the water, as it surrounded her.

That did draw an actual response, recalling it like that, but it wasn’t as strong. It didn’t bring the same degree of fear or panic, but the chill remained, sticking around long enough for her to want to feel the sun on her skin. To get in whatever warmth she could back as they sped along in their beaten to hell SUV.

Then there was John.

John. The Baptist, who’d had a turn holding her down himself. She still hadn’t forgiven _or_ forgotten that little detail, but that was beside the point.

John was tangible, present.

He made his presence known in every decision made, and wasn’t much of the cloak and dagger type. He wasn’t going to be hiding out in the trees waiting to shoot her senseless in the middle of a souvenir store. He wasn’t going to risk sending her straight to an early grave on the off chance she could catch a glimpse of just what Joseph was warning them all of. 

No, he seemed to enjoy announcing his intentions first. Giving her just enough time to hear him brag about it, before sending his men along to find her.

That it was reassuring at all to have that to rely on, was seriously fucked up.

Which was why calling him out of the blue like this on her first day back was questionable at best. She’d been greeted by his face on the way in. Had seen one too many posters as they passed by more than a few of the properties taken, with YES painted haphazardly everywhere, stamping and claiming it for the cult, so he was on her mind whether she liked it or not.

The least he deserved was the courtesy of knowing just what that would earn him.

“Hey, John. Pick up, I know you’re out there somewhere…” As to where, she had a few ideas, but odds were good he wasn’t anywhere near his region’s edge at the moment. Not where they had decided to camp out at the moment. “John?”

Seconds ticked by as Hana stared down at the radio, rocking back and forth on her feet as she waited. She figured either he’d pick up, Dutch would ask her what the hell she was doing, or both would happen simultaneously and she’d have no choice but to juggle them.

That or the billboard behind her would catch fire, but Sharky had promised her that he and Hurk weren’t going that route with their proposed plan for it. No fire at all was suspicious, but she’d taken his word for it, even if she wasn’t allowed to peek.

“…Oh, John?”

Static crackled over the line, but he soon spoke up, using the same tone he’d addressed her with when he’d first called her back at the Woodson’s.

_“Well, well. Is that the Deputy’s voice I hear? I was beginning to wonder when you would find your way back to me. However, I see your curious tendency to carve a fiery path through all that you touch hasn’t been limited to my region only.”_

“Disappointed? I didn’t want your siblings thinking I was playing favorites. Spending all of my time with you tearing things up while they were left alone. Figured I’d share the love a little.” She let go of the call button, then pressed it again. “Even though I’m a bit biased.”

That actually drew a laugh from him, but hardly a warm one.

_“I can’t say they would have the same…appreciation for your stubborn persistence as I do. How you keep on insisting that this is the right path to follow, when all that we’ve shown you is to the contrary. Do you delight in knowing just what you’re doing to bring about the most destruction to your home?”_

“I’m certainly delighting in breaking any of your shiny new toys, while also reclaiming every last little thing you’ve taken from us.”

_“Must you make things so difficult for those under your watch? These supplies, these items, are taken to serve a greater purpose. To help us ensure that when it comes, we will be able to survive the Collapse, to thrive,” _he urged. _“What you are doing right now is only pushing us closer to it, and for every soul that you liberate, there’s another spot left vacant. One that you personally denied entrance to Eden. You want to help them, don’t you?”_

“I am.”

_“That’s what you have to believe. Because you can’t afford to be wrong here. Knowing full well that if you did make a mistake, that if this is coming – and it is – that what you are doing, is gambling with their lives. Hoping to see who will be right, you, or the Father. He can’t possibly be right, can he?”_

“You’re still trying to tell me there’s no prophetic wiggle room in those visions of his?”

_“Yes, or no, Deputy. There is no gray area here for you to choose or consider, not when it means saving them.”_

Two days ago she would’ve told him no outright. She’d grown silent as he went on, feeling like most digs would’ve fallen flat in the face of what he was throwing at her. And worse yet, what she had felt while all but OD-ing in the bliss.

Because she had felt it. The flames and the force as it blew her back. Could recall almost perfectly the heat of the winds as they tore by, the sky going white. When Joseph drew her near, to show her the ashes and the fires left behind.

But it was the bliss that helped make it real.

Not Faith, lingering nearby, and not Joseph, as much as he wanted her to see what he’d seen. To catch a glimpse of what he insisted was coming. It was a trick of the mind, and how they bent people to them. Got them to listen, to consider.

That was how they won. By getting her to say maybe.

Denial was not the best means of coping. Still, it’s how she dealt with some of the shit she preferred to bury or avoid, and if she gave John an inch, he’d take a mile.

“_John._ Don’t get all heavy on me here. One silo’s not going to bring the sky down on our heads, and the explosion’s just so damn pretty to watch.” He went silent, long enough for her to think he’d disconnected, and Hana held her ear up to the radio. “John?”

_“…Am I a joke to you? Some petty amusement?”_

She sighed dramatically. “Well-”

_“Come to me then. Sit with me, challenge me like I know you want to - like I want you to - and I will open you up,” _he said, drawing out each word slowly. Deliberately._ “Peeling away those layers, spilling all of those thoughts, desires, and secrets you keep close and hidden, tucked away from everyone, out in the open for all to see. And if you still challenge me then, I’ll peel away another layer. And another. By then you might even beg me to. Would I be more than a fucking joke to you then?”_

Her eyes were locked on the radio, every part of her dumbstruck. John didn’t wait for a response to that on her end either, deciding to keep on going.

_“Because you continue to play at this and laugh. Like it’s a game meant to entertain you. With every action you take, you only make things worse for them.” _He was close enough to the radio on his end now for her to catch every shift in every word. _“You hurt them, you bring this pain upon them, every last bit of their suffering when all they want is to be saved. You know what to do to end this! To confess, to give me the one answer I seek. Will you?”_

He’d thrown her, had actually done it, but that still didn’t change her answer. “No.”

There was a hissing intake of breath, and she imagined his teeth were clenched._ “How many times do you think I’ll let you reject this? My brother asks for mercy, and that I will grant you, but my generosity has a limit, one that you’re rapidly reaching.”_

“And you need to understand that we don’t need saving,” she shot, her grip on her radio tight. “Saving from you, absolutely, but from guilt, sin, and any and all of the above? I think we’ll manage. And you can shove any and all current and future offers to dodge damnation right up your own ass.”

A loud whistle caught her attention, and Hana turned towards it. She could just see Sharky waving her down in the distance, and all it took was one look at the billboard for all of the anger to drain right out of her.

“Oh my God." The peal of laughter that left her actually went through over the radio due to her thumb holding the call button down. “Gotta go,” she said, wishing just for a second that John could see the shit-eating grin gracing her face. “Hope you like what I’ve done with the sign. You know, the one you see right when you head west from the Henbane?”

_“…Deputy.” _His tone was downright venomous. “_What have you done?”_

She looked at the job that Sharky and Hurk were finishing up with his sign, the white spray-painted dick very visible, and sizable next to his smiling face. “You’ll love it. Trust me on that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have a confession to make. The entire reason I wrote this piece was to give Hana an excuse to make a drunken radio call, but rarely do things go according to the original plan.

She was drunk. Not just a little, but heading full on into embracing whatever chaos the night might lead into, dare or no dare provided.

Sharky was her primary instigator, working harder than usual to keep her from thinking back to the mess they’d made of the convoys in the afternoon. It didn’t make sense. They should’ve found a way to make a serious dent by now, but for every one lost, another two took its place, like some sort of strange vehicular hydra.

It was an exhausting dance. One Hana knew was going to be painful from the start, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept, or forget. Especially when John knew which resources to lean on as a counter.

So, with that frustration fresh in her mind, she let one drink turn into two. Then into four. With Sharky by her side, she tacked on one more after that, and he reminded her that breaks like this really did lead to better ass kicking tomorrow.

“Just flush all of that negative shit out, double-down on you being you, and it’ll be smooth sailing. Trust me,” he said. “We’ll be swimming in so much Peggie ass tomorrow.“

She nearly choked on her drink. “Kicking. You mean we’ll be kicking so much ass tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah! What’d you think I said?” he asked, nearly spilling his shot. The fact that it was on fire – courtesy of him, and not Mary May - should’ve been a concern, but she was well within swatting distance if she needed to intervene. He put it out and knocked it back before she could say anything else. “We’ll be kicking it up, and fucking them up. 'Cause that’s how we do things.”

At least, that’s how they were planning on doing things. _Tomorrow_.

Within the hour, Hana was dragging him upstairs, barely able to stand on his own two feet. Even after somehow losing a bet and promising to get him his weight in accelerants, she wasn’t about to let him stumble up there alone, and helped deposit him into the room Mary May was letting her crash in.

Sharky faceplanted onto the bed, and after draping the blanket over him, she made him promise he wouldn’t suffocate on his own hoodie – while also making sure he actually wouldn’t. She would’ve felt awful if he did after teasing him about it. Lucky for her he was listening, but the minute said hoodie hit her in the face, she wisely decided it was time to cut out and leave. 

With that she was left alone and free to roam. Her head buzzed, the sensation more pleasant than not, but standing there idle with a half-finished beer wasn’t going to help her burn any of that energy off.

So, she wandered outside, taking a moment to stand on the Spread Eagle’s porch.

In moments like this it was easy to see how someone could’ve fallen in love with this place. How she could’ve fallen in love with it before things went straight to hell and back.

The breeze ruffled her hair as Hana followed the road to the outskirts of town before cutting across the grass, looking to head to the hills. Glancing skyward, she took in the stars above, marking old constellations that she used to love as a kid.

Orion. Always Orion, with his belt of stars, one, two, and three. Cassiopeia, with the zig-zag of the W. If she squinted, there was at least one of the dippers to find too.

Out here, the lights above weren’t drowned out by the city below. She pointed up, running her finger from one bright point to another, her head bobbing as she tried to trace out the image. Rough as it was, there was still a picture to be made even if she had to blink fast to keep it in focus.

But her finger came to a stop, resting right on the edge of the horizon. Right where the white, glaring eye sore stood out up in the mountains, drawing her attention completely.

She chucked her empty beer bottle in the general direction of the YES sign, and didn’t care that it wouldn’t come anywhere close to reaching it. It shattered somewhere nearby, her annoyance rising at having fallen short, and she stood there, staring out over the fields as she forced herself to relax. To curl back into the peace out here. To breathe in and out.

In and out.

She took in her fifth breath, hearing it whistle between her teeth, before reaching down for her radio. Silence wasn’t going to cut it any longer, and she’d take anything else at this point.

Not bothering to check to see just which station she’d picked was a mistake. Mostly harmless, but still a sizable one given her current mood. With the Peggie station came a chance of hearing each of the Seed’s songs. She’d heard most off and on, but only for short bursts due to the cultists playing them.

John’s followers, however, seemed to take this a step further. Seemed to play his theme with a frequency that grated on her more and more every time she heard it, and hearing it now out of the blue? Here, well in view of his lasting mark on the valley?

That was the cherry on top of her irritation-flavored sundae.

_Oh, John!_ The words ran right on repeat through her mind, and there it was. A melody that was going to stick around right up until the point that she passed out, mid-curse into her pillow.

“Petty fucking amusement, my ass,” Hana muttered, messing with the radio. “I’ll show you who’s a joke.”

If that was how her night was going to go, fine. Maybe he did have a point, and maybe, just maybe, he could be hers.

* * *

“Brother John?”

He didn’t raise his eyes from the papers set in front of him on the table, but when the Chosen didn’t respond further, he waved his hand for them to continue. At this hour interruptions were few and far between, but not impossible. “Go on, I’m listening.”

“Our channel’s been picking up on a strange message. One that’s been repeating, but doesn’t appear to be an SOS. It hasn’t stopped. Not once.”

John turned towards her, and set his pen aside. “If it’s not an emergency, or a threat, then what is the problem?”

The Chosen’s posture straightened as more of his attention was turned on her, but she held up her radio and stood her ground. “It’s been the same thing over the last five minutes. Cutting in and out, just…noise at first, but it sounds like singing.”

“Singing?” John raised an eyebrow.

She turned it on, and the voice came through in bursts, some of it too difficult to understand at first. Once the words started coming through, however, he listened, taking in the melody as it became quite clear which song it belonged to. 

He set his chin in his hand, and let his eyes slip shut. That was his name being said, and this song was one he did admit a degree of, albeit prideful, fondness for. Even with the words slurred and the voice exaggerating each note’s rise and fall.

But this voice, this one, he was used to hearing nothing but provocations from. In a way, this also fit the bill. After the crude defacement of his message, along with the taking back of the Widowmaker, the county’s only free deputy kept on going as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

And while he had seethed over her actions - and her dismissal of him days back – other areas had demanded his attention first.

Her time to atone would come. She would take those steps, willingly, if he had his way, and from there progress could truly be made. If he needed to guide her further he would, but it was so much more satisfying to see what steps she might take unprompted. Especially when those steps lead to instances like this.

This wasn’t an immediate problem. It wasn’t another blow to their resources or a strike to their convoys. It was a distraction at best, which didn’t require his intervention at all, but the temptation remained. Like before, she was reaching out to him. _Calling_ for him, even if only to provoke him.

It was still an effort, and it lingered in the back of his mind when he motioned for them to hand over their radio.

“Allow me. Maybe there’s something to this after all.”

* * *

_"My dear Deputy-“_

The radio flew out of her hands, sailing through the air towards the ground, as she fumbled it completely. It landed on a patch of grass, the tumble making only static come through for a few seconds. Soon enough, however, John’s voice was back.

_“How unexpected. I wasn’t aware that song left such an impression on you. To hear it come straight from your lips, to hear it repeated so fervently. I’m amazed.”_

Hana stared at the radio, both hands still clasped over her mouth, and felt the blood rush straight to her face.

_“And over such a public medium as well. What would the others say if they heard you?” _

If they had the right idea, they would’ve turned off their radios long ago. Hopefully before John actually decided to tune in, but too late now. She’d deal with that in the morning, along with the massive hangover she’d be courting. 

She grabbed for the radio, struggling not to trip over her own two feet trying to pick it up fast, and almost forgot to hit the button before replying. “This isn’t about them. It’s about…shit.”

_“You? I’d suggest myself, but after hearing what I have for the last few minutes or so, that might be presumptuous of me.”_

He was back to using that strange teasing tone of his again, and none of it sat well with her. Not after what he’d shown her a few days back, but if he was willing to do this, she’d gladly dish it back.

“You liked that? Hearing your name over, and over, and over?“

_“Very few would object to such a thing. Especially when said so…enthusiastically.”_

Her face flushed again – or had it stayed that way? – and she kicked herself for being just that damn petty. The words had been messy from the start, and she’d looped back to that simply because her poor brain had hit a snag and couldn’t get past repeating variations of it.

“Jesus, John. Hearing this shit would grate on a normal person.”

Hearing it from her? Drunk and garbled? It should’ve been irritating. That was exactly what she wanted to begin with. Instead, he was a mix of amused and delighted? Shouldn’t he have already ambushed her and carried her off to God-knows-where days back just for the damn sign?

What the hell did she actually drink? Mary May said it’d been strong before she shot it, but -

_“Why are we speaking, Deputy? I have a feeling there’s something on your mind. Intoxicated or not.”_

_You._ She nearly bit her tongue. _Bugging the shit out of you._ “I thought my intent was pretty damn clear.”

_“No, I think there’s more to this. A reason for you to seek me out. Are there regrets? Looking for another chance to consider-“_

“No.”

_“Deputy.”_ He almost sounded disappointed. “_So quick to say no.”_

“After listening to you tell me how, if given the chance, you were going to ‘open me up’ and, or, peel me like a fucking apple, did you really expect anything different?”

He paused._ “Ah. That.”_

“Yes_, that_.”

John chuckled, but didn’t offer up an explanation or an excuse. Just his amusement at what she was sure was her expense. That put a shot of anger through her.

“Real cute asshole, but you’re going to have to give me more than that.”

_“I was merely suggesting you could share a part of yourself with me.”_

_Not just one,_ Hana reminded herself. _Multiple parts. Multiple layers._

“Suggesting, huh? Suggestions are made about movies, and songs to listen to. Both usually to share and enjoy with those closest to you. And okay, people do that too. Sharing, and baring just enough of themselves to see if they’ve got a good thing going, but applying that to us, John, just doesn’t work. Because one, we’re just not that cozy, and two, we’re sure as hell not that close.”

_“Hence, the suggestion.”_

“I might have a few for you, if we’re going to stick to this topic, but none of them are going to be that nice.”

_“And I’m sure you would love to go over them in extensive detail with me, my dear. Some of which I might even entertain, given just how you might choose to pitch it to me.”_

She wasn’t even sure what topic they were on anymore at this point. “Oh, I think you’d like my delivery. Maybe even my pitch.” Yeah, she’d lost it, and the breathy tone was laying it on way too thick.

_“Deputy!” _The smile her mental image conjured up for that was a wicked one._ “You’re far from shy, aren’t you? Just be sure to remain clear on what exactly you’re hoping to accomplish. Otherwise, I may end up drawing my own conclusions on the matter. But don’t worry,” _he said, almost imitating her_. “No matter what you decide, you won’t have to be nice with me.”_

_Jesus._ This was getting weird. Way too weird for her to keep on going with it. “Now I know you’re just trying to keep me talking. Dangling shit like that in front of me hoping I’ll just, I don’t know. Ramble on about something interesting, or just make a bigger ass of myself in the process. Either or.”

_“We’re simply talking. Trading pleasantries, and possibly even a step beyond that. Surely that can’t be a problem.”_

“Nothing is ever simple when it comes to you. At least, that I’m learning.”

_“You were the one that called me. Let me remind you of that, yet again,” _he replied, an edge creeping into his tone._ “But this is the longest we’ve talked so far. I’d like to call that…progress.”_

“I don’t think we’re supposed to make progress here.”

_“Given my role, I’d have to disagree. Progress is precious. All too delicate and easily lost, much like trust. And I understand yours is not given easily, Deputy.”_

She took in a slow breath and let it out through her nose. “What do you want, John?”

_“Let me be honest with you. Not that I haven’t been from the start, but if you need to hear it, need me to tell you this directly, then I will.”_

“To build trust?”

_“To build progress. But that could lead to trust, if given the opportunity.”_

This was swinging back in the other direction. Back to a topic that she knew they shouldn’t be heading towards, and the repeated question came out harsh._ “What do you want, John?”_

_“Let me make my offer again. To give you a proper chance to-“_

“Confess?” That made her want to pitch her radio right out over the hills. “You never quit with this shit, do you?”

_“Have I become that predictable?” _he asked drily._ “But yes, I doubt I will, because it's not in my right to deny you that. That chance. That opportunity. It still remains, even now.”_

“You want to hear a confession? Hmm? You really want to? Like the actual reason why we’re talking right now? Why I made an ass of myself earlier singing at you?”

Hana held the radio right up to her mouth as she hissed out the next few words.

“I _hate_ this song. I hate it every time it comes on, and I hate the fact that this entire county only has two stations to choose from. That if I get into any vehicle, or if I walk to any area within reach, there’s a decent shot it’s playing, and I have to spend the next five minutes listening to it crooning, ‘Oh, John,’ over and over until I can flip the damn switch.”

_“It should be a source of inspiration, to bolster, and-”_

She pressed the button on the radio to cut him off. “I blame the subject. He’s kind of a self-absorbed prick.”

He grew silent after that, and she knew she was getting close to hitting a nerve.

“John the brave. Building us a family, and working hard to keep us safe. Isn’t that how it goes?”

_“I would. All of you, if you’d let me.”_

“It’s not that simple of a thing, John. To wave your hand and brush away everything. To wipe the slate clean.”

_“It’s not about forgetting or dismissing memories, thoughts, or actions. It’s about accepting them for what they are, and finding a way past that. To wash them away, opening yourself up to the possibility of becoming something greater. We all have things that we regret, don’t we?”_

Staring down at the radio, she wet her lips and wished like hell she had another beer nearby. This was not a conversation she wanted to have with him of all people.

_“I know you’ve felt that. Not just here, in this place. But before. Long before coming here. The difference is that this time, you wouldn’t have to be alone.”_

Coming from the same man that had promised to spill her guts out in front of him earlier, to dig for all that she’d keep from him, stung.

“Stop, John.”

_“I would listen. Patiently, until you’ve given me all that you could offer. Every word, every action, as we name these things we bury, these sins, and from there they can be shed. So you can begin anew. Unburdened and unashamed.”_

“I don’t want to do this with you,” Hana said, the buzz giving way to a weight in her body. “I don’t.”

_“But you could. Just say yes.”_

_Yes._

A shiver ran through her, sinking deep into her as it spread.

“That night by the lake. The Cleansing, or whatever you called it, you remember that? Holding me down as I kicked and screamed my lungs out?” He went silent, and her head swam as she tried to steady herself. “You were going to drown me that night, weren’t you? Right up until Joseph spoke up. Saving me from _you.”_

She held the radio in her hand, waiting for a denial, acknowledgment, anything.

She’d suspected it. But this, after hearing him say those things to her, spoken low, _intimately_, was the icing on the goddamn cake.

“If anyone’s going to save me, it’s not going to be you,” she replied, hating how the words wavered. “Good night, John.”

She hit the switch and the radio slipped out of her hand, landing right on the grass by her feet. She'd know where to grab it come morning, she thought, leaving it behind.

Sure enough, she would.


End file.
